


Burnt Sugar

by ElDiablito_SF



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bad Cooking, Gross, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-09 03:06:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11095590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/pseuds/ElDiablito_SF
Summary: Silver makes Flint a little kitchen surprise.





	Burnt Sugar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Apetslife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apetslife/gifts).



> This one's in response to the prompt "Are you blowing things up?" on Tumblr. And I'm truly sickened by the results ;)

“Why does it smell like something’s burning?”

Flint stalked into the kitchen, sniffing at the air like a suspicious bloodhound.

“Why is the kitchen covered in white powder? And why do you have a flame torch?” He wrapped his arms around Silver, whose back was steadfastly towards him as he continued to ignore the onslaught of questions. He moved Silver’s long pony tail out of the way and pressed his lips to the appetizing bump of his top vertebra. 

“I have my reasons,” Silver replied, shivering at the touch of Flint’s mouth as it traveled up the nape of his neck.

“Are you blowing things up?”

Silver chuckled and leaned back against the wall of hard muscle behind him. Through the thin cotton of his tank top, he could feel the tufts of Flint’s chest hair rubbing against the skin of his back.

“For your information, I’m attempting to make crème brûlée,” Silver replied, breath hitching as Flint’s mouth located his earlobe and latched on. “The crème part, I think I got down. The brûlée-ing bit requires more skill than I appear to possess.”

Flint’s chin propped up against Silver’s shoulder, he took a dolorous look at the kitchen counter before him.

“The place looks like you’re making a bomb,” Flint confirmed his prior suspicion.

“Well, you’d know, wouldn’t you, Captain?”

“Just,” Flint’s hand reached out and wrapped about the propane gas torch, “go easy on the trigger finger. This isn’t an AK-47.” He pressed the torch back into Silver’s hand, keeping his own hand wrapped lightly over the top. “You’re supposed to brown the sugar, not blacken it.”

Silver didn’t actually give a shit about the dessert anymore, so he turned his head completely to begin mouthing at the hinge of Flint’s jaw, slowly making his way towards his lover’s lips. He might have been a liar and a thief, but he could never lie about the fact that when Flint talked in military lingo, it made him as hot as the burned sugar under the torch.

“You’re a terrible cook,” Flint whispered, pushing the last of the untarnished ramekins closer and pressing his finger over Silver’s to click on the flame.

“Thank god I have other skills then,” Silver whispered, kissing Flint hard while the smell of burned sugar filled their nostrils. 

Flint’s free hand snuck underneath Silver’s tank top, caressing the warm skin there as he put down the torch. His eyes traced the contours of Silver’s face as their lips separated, taking in the flour in his hair and the streak of beaten eggs across his cheek.

“My god, you’re a mess,” Flint giggled, leaning in to lick the makings of the batter off of Silver’s face. “What would you do without me?” He pushed the ramekin with the perfectly browned sugar over the top of the cream towards Silver.

“Not attempt to make you your favorite dessert, probably?” Silver replied with a crooked, saucy smirk.

“Probably,” Flint agreed, pulling Silver in for another slow kiss. “But I love that you never let your capabilities stand in the way of your ambitions,” he added, nipping at Silver’s lower lip.

“And I love that you’re a fucking asshole,” Silver replied, trying to bite the smirk off of Flint’s infuriatingly hot face.

Both men took an uncertain step away from the counter, their arms still wrapped around one another. Among the chaos and the fallen soldiers strewn along the kitchen, there sat one perfectly presented ramekin of a very appetizing looking crème brûlée.

“Should we eat this before or after we fuck?” Flint asked, pensively.

“Definitely before,” Silver stated with certainty. “For all we know, this isn’t very good, and I would hate to end this evening on a sour note.”

“I love you,” Flint said and Silver’s eyes lit up with the light of a thousand stars.

“I’ll get us a spoon,” he replied with a soft smile.


End file.
